April 1
by Half-Winchester
Summary: A short flash of life 5 years after Fred Weasley's death.
1. Chapter 1

"Do you know what day it is?" She slurred, running a free hand through her long brown hair, pushing it back from her forehead once more as she lifted the glass of firewhiskey again.

"No, what day is it?" The bartender asked in a monotone, sighing slightly.

She paused to chug the rest of her glass. Her face scrunched up in distaste as she slammed the glass down, taking several breaths. Finally, she poked her finger at the table to emphasize her point. "Today, this day, April 1st, 2003, is Fred Weasley's birthday." She crossed her arms on the table and rested her head on them. "That," she began. "Is what today is."

"Well, why aren't you celebrating with Fred Weasley then?" the bartended questioned thoughtlessly.

She barely moved. "He's dead," she moaned quietly. "He died five years ago, that's why I'm not _celebrating_," She peered up at the bartender, her eyes narrowed. "With Fred Weasley."

The bartender put down the glass he had been steadily rubbing at. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"That's alright, no one knows." She shrugged. "When they covered the deaths of the war, it was such a washout. So many names…. The brain can't process that much, you know? What was it, 107 names? Why would you have remembered Fred Weasley?" She shook her head, sliding her glass back to the bartender. "More, please…"

The bartender obliged, bringing out the bottle of firewhiskey. "So, he died at Hogwarts? Was he a student?"

She shook her head. "He was in the Order, with Harry Potter."

"Oh, Weasley!" The bartender exclaimed. "Like, Ron Weasley, from the trio."

She made a disgusted face. "Yeah, the Golden fucking Trio. Notice all of them are alive."

"Well, Harry Potter, he did die, and then he came back and killed Voldemort."

"Fuck that," she grumbled. "If Harry Potter died, he'd be fucking dead. That prat was in my goddamned office the other day, applying to be an Auror."

"Harry Potter's going to be an Auror?" The bartender looked pleased. "Well, it suits him, to say the least."

"Do you want to know what he said to me? Do you want to know what the Boy Who Lived said to me?" She spat. " 'Harry,' I say, 'you didn't finish school, and when you made up the credits, you didn't do too well.' And Harry, Harry says, 'Well, as I'm sure you know, I've had a lot of experience in combatting the Dark Arts.' And I say, 'But Harry, these grades don't say that.' And he fucking says 'Well, you see, I fought off Voldemort and a group of Death Eaters, if that doesn't get me the job, what will?'" She took the glass of firewhiskey again and finished it in one long gulp. "Can you believe that?" She asked, breathless. "As if I'd hand Harry Potter a job, when his Dark Arts skills left Fred fucking Weasley rotting in a grave." She held out her glass, which the bartender filled again without hesitation. "I loved Fred Weasley, man. I was going to ask that guy to the Yule fucking Ball, man. But, that Angelina girl go to him first, and would you believe that now she's dating his fucking brother? Like, double dip the fun out of my life, you bitch, right?"

The bartender was shaking his head. "Do you have a safe way home tonight?"

"Listen to me, Draco Malfoy, the big enemy painted across the papers by the Golden Trio, he's going to be a Healer in a month. He's worked very, very hard taking the classes and training to save people's lives. He and I, we meet up every now and again. He's a good fucking kid. Harry Potter? Not so fucking much." She put down the glass again. "Again, please."

"No, I think I'm going to cut you off." The bartender shook his head. "Who can I call for you? I want you to get home safely."

She shrugged. "I'm not worried."

"I am. There is no way I'm going to let you fly or Apparate in this condition, in this weather." He gestured to the windows. She was surprised to notice that the rain she had ducked in from earlier had increased considerably. "Do you want me to book you a room at the Leaky Cauldron?"

She shook her head, reaching into her pockets. "I'll walk over just fine, don't you worry." She put a few sickles on the bar, then began to pull her coat on, tripping slightly as she stood.

"Listen, lady, I'm real worried about you."

She shook her head and stumbled towards the door. "Don't you worry! I've got friends in low places." She opened the door, calling over her shoulder as she stepped into the rain. "I've got friends in Diagon Alley!"

In fact, she did have friends in Diagon Alley, but as she stumbled down the sidewalk she found her feet drawing her towards the big red-headed beacon that still stood tall over the streets. Though it was obviously long past midnight, she found herself peering in the windows.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was pushing the door open, the bell sounding as she entered. In her drunken state, she seemed unphased by the fact that the door was open in the middle of the night. She began to wander amongst the aisles, running her hands over the products. She knew that George had reopened the store with the help of his younger brother, in some attempt to recapture the magic it had once held. But even now, five years after the war, it seemed that the wizarding world didn't have as much time for laughs the way they did back then.

But then again, maybe she just had a different view of the world.


	2. Chapter 2

As I stared intently at the instructions for the Demon Box in my hand, I felt as if I could fall asleep right then and there, free hand gripping the edge of a shelf for dear life and forehead resting on a shelf above me. I shook my head, up righting myself and heading to a new display entirely. "Oh, Fred, Fred, Fred," I whispered, as if he could hear me. "What didn't you think of?"

"Er, excuse me?" A voice across the shop sent a chill down my spine. I practically dropped the bottle of a pink potion that had found its way into my hand, spinning around to face the source. I almost fell over at the combination of twirling added to the red-headed man ahead of me, assuming that it could be none other than Fred Weasley come to scold me from beyond the veil. As I tried to right myself once again, I found my foot had caught on another nearby display, and I began to pitch forward.

He stepped towards me gracefully, gripping my shoulders to support me. "Are you alright, miss?"

I nodded, pulling away from him carefully. "Sorry."

He raised an eyebrow. "This isn't some sort of robbery, is it?"

I laughed, perhaps too loudly in my drunken state. "No, of course not. The door was unlocked, I uhm…." I snapped my fingers rapidly, trying to find the right words. "I assumed you guys were open." I casually leaned a hand the line of shelves behind me. "You aren't George, are you?" This man seemed similarly built to how the twins had been, as best as I could remember at least. However, he looked as if he might be older than I would have anticipated George to be, and his skin was much tanner.

"No, I'm his brother, Charlie. Did you need George? I could go get him, he's just upstairs." He laughed slightly. "Though, I must warn you, he's just as drunk as you are. He may not be in a business mood."

I was shaking my head rapidly. "No, I don't need anyone, I was just…" I had stopped shaking my head, but it felt as if it kept turning back and forth and back and forth. "I'm not drunk."

He laughed fully at that. "And I haven't got a wand in my pocket."

I squinted at him for a long moment. "Excuse me?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Look, no hard feelings, but you are quite tossed. Though you do still look quite lovely, it's apparent that you're having a bit of a rough night."

I turned away. "Well, sorry for coming in after hours, I'll be on my way."

"Wait, you haven't even told me your name."

"So you can call the police on me? I don't think so." I put the pink bottle back in its place.

"I wouldn't do that," he replied. "It's not like you've done anything wrong. My brother's shop is still in order and such."

I looked back at him for a moment before walking away, heading out the door into the rain.

In a moment, he was walking beside me. "Looks like we're headed the same way. Leaky Cauldron?"

I stopped, turning to him. "I already said I was sorry, would you please just leave me be?"

"Well, miss, and again I don't mean this to offend you, but you look like you need some help."

"And what makes you say that?" I asked, placing my hand on my hips.

"For one, you've lost a shoe. And you left your wallet on the display back there." He held up my wallet. "And I've half a mind to leave you out here for that alone, but I know it'll haunt my conscience if the Daily Prophet reports you dead or missing in a week."

I reached out for my wallet, but he pulled it back from me. I exhaled slowly. "What was the part about leaving me out here?"

"For your wallet." He waved it slightly. "D'you know how many dragons are killed prematurely for their skin so a pretty girl like you can tote around a shiny bag?"

I blinked several times, taken aback. I looked at him and away several times before finally speaking. "That's not real dragon skin."

He analyzed the wallet in his hands. "It's not?"

I shook my head. "A friend got it for me, she sells faux skin for some company, says it's the new frontier of fashion." I waved my palms as she had done after I had opened it.

"Oh." Through the rain, it looked like he had turned slightly red. "Sorry, then."

"S'alright." I shrugged, taking the wallet back from him. "Have you got my shoe as well? Is there some protest against sensible heals you want to pitch?"

He pulled my shoe from under his jacket. "Not that it matters, as you're soaked head to toe anyway."

"You're right. I should've worn dragon skin in anticipation."

He cracked a smile.

"Alright if I go now?" I tried to pull my shoe back on, losing my balance quickly. Again, he reached out to prevent a fall.

He laughed, his face close to mine. "Not a mermaid's chance on shore."

I dropped my hands to my side, crestfallen. "I just want to go home," I whined.

"Do you live around here?" He made a circle in the air with his finger.

"No, I don't." I stomped my foot slightly. "I can't apparate, I'm too drunk, I just want to go home."

"Aw, don't cry." He smiled again. He put a hand on my shoulder. "I'll help you get home, alright? As long as I know you're safe, I'll be happy."

I nodded, running a hand across my eyes, though I knew the rain would wash away anything there anyways. I held it out towards him. "Emmy Lake."

He took my hand. "As in Emmy Lake, head of HR to the department of law enforcement?"

I nodded.

He was shaking his head, a grin on his face. "Don't worry, your reputation is safe with me." He let his own hand drop. "So, whereabouts do you live?"

"Walthamstow. Muggle-end."

"Quite a ways, eh?"

I sighed, nodding. "I do this every fucking year, Charlie. I come and sit in the bloody bar across from Fred's bloody shop and drink myself half to death," I moaned. I pressed a few fingers to my temple, feeling my head begin to reel again, the last few shots finally grabbing on to me.

"What, as in every April 1st?" He asked.

I sniffled, looking around again. "Like clockwork. Wake up the next morning, take the tube into London, go back to the Ministry and act like nothing's wrong."

"So, April 1st, not May 2nd?"

"None of my friends were supposed to die, Charlie." I threw my hands up in despair. "One day, everything's fine, the next, witches and wizards missing, kicked out of the ministry, and Fred's gone. Just gone." I was shaking my head again, realizing what was spewing out of my drunken mouth. "I'm sorry, he's your brother, and I don't know what I'm talking about."

"You're right, though," Charlie replied. "It fucking sucks."

There was a crack of thunder, and lightning could be seen in the distance.

"Look, let's get you home." Charlie grabbed my arm. "Where to?"

I stood in the doorway of my bedroom, looking in at the man standing awkwardly in the center of my living room whilst scrutinizing a blurry moving photograph of myself on a broom. I cleared my throat. "Found you some dry clothes." I held out a bundle.

He looked at me, blue eyes bright. "You played?"

"Yeah, uh…" I wracked my still hazy brain. "I was the Seeker in… 89? And then I switched to Chaser in like, 91ish?"

He wagged his finger, coming towards me. "I remember you. You were that crazy third year who creamed me in the match against Ravenclaw."

I squinted my eyes at him. "You must not want dry clothes."

He laughed heartily. Looking them over, he asked, "He mind that I'm using his clothes?"

"Would assume not. He left me last year."

"Sorry," he quickly stated. He paused for a moment, and then asked, "April 1st?"

I turned away, shutting the door behind me. I stumbled towards my dresser again, now looking for my own clothes. Soon, I was stripped down and toweling dry. It felt odd for a moment, to be naked with a strange man in the next room. Then, I braced myself against the wall as another wave of dizziness took over. I darted for the bathroom and vomited as quietly as was possible, not wanting the concerned Weasley to come to my rescue whilst I was in the buck.

I brushed my teeth slowly, feeling a bit less drunk as I pulled on a baggy shirt and some plaid pajama shorts. Before I left the room, I considered that perhaps this was inappropriate, being in my nightclothes while entertaining guests.

I swung the door open. "I need you to solve an ethical dilemma for me, Charlie."

He jumped slightly, only in his jeans himself.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I slumped my shoulders. "I didn't tell you where the bathroom was."

"No, my apologies, I should have asked."

"You know, you've said sorry much too many times this evening. I've started to worry that you haven't got any nerve."

"My mother just raised me to be polite." He was rubbing the towel I had handed him over his red hair.

"Are you the oldest?"

"Second oldest. Bill's first, then me, Percy, George, Ron, last Ginny." He rattled off. "Freddie's the youngest now. Where's the bathroom?" I pointed him into my bedroom, and he slinked in, the dry clothes clutched in his hand.

I sat down on the couch, waiting. I was unsure how far my hospitality was expected to go, as he had insisted he hadn't needed dry clothes and I had drunkenly forced him to accept my offer. Thunder was quite frequent at this point, and I leaned my head back. I supposed it was too dangerous to allow him to go home? Maybe I was expected to offer him the bed, and sleep on the couch.

I stood finally and headed for the fridge, pulling out a few butterbeers.

He reappeared.

"Do you like these cold or warm?"

"Cold's fine." He grabbed one from me. "Let me know when I've overstayed my welcome."

I pointed at the door. "You've done it, get out."

His eyes widened slightly.

I giggled.

"I saw you've got a picture of my brother in there." He gestured. "Did you go to the ball with him?"

I sighed again, padding towards my bedroom to look at the picture myself, knowing that there were three of Fred that I kept in a drawer. I must have left one out. I picked up the frame, looking at the picture of Fred, George and I crammed into a frame, laughing and dancing. My long brown hair flowed freely in curls, a dress long given away hugging my hips. Fred's hand was in mine for a second, a split second, and Collin Creevey had gotten it on film. Of course, he was gone now, too. "No, I didn't go with him," I called back. "I wanted to ask him, but my friends convinced me I was too old for him…"

"Ah." He stood in the doorway. "Did you have a thing for him?"

I looked down for a long minute, my fingers running over the edge of the wood. "Do you really want to know?"

I watched in the mirror before me as he stepped into the room. "Only if you want me to know."

I took a deep breath before opening the drawer of my bedside table and tucking the picture away. "When I was about 17, my parents died just after winter break." I turned around to face Charlie. "And I was depressed for several months. And I decided to off myself." There was a brief pause, as I waited to see if he would respond at all. He didn't. "So, I'm all set to go do it, and I'm headed out to the forest, and Fred cuts me off, and he just…" I shrugged. "He just knew, I guess. And he says, 'Whatever you're going to do, it's not as important as this right now, because today's my birthday-"

"_-and I want you to come out with me and my brother." He didn't take his hand away from the crook of my elbow, his dark eyes burning into mine. He put on a genuine smile. "Deal?"_

"Wow, really?" Charlie shook his head, a smile toying at his own mouth. "Freddie always knew, though, he always knew when somebody needed a laugh."

I nodded, feeling an ocean prick at my eyes. "And he, uh, he gave me this box, and said I had to open it, and you see it was real, real hot for April, and when I opened the box-"

_When I opened the box, a snowball smashed into my face. For a moment, I was startled. The ball had appeared out of seemingly nowhere. But then, I remembered that this was Fred Weasley, and he and his brother had been selling other gag gifts around the castle. _

_Fred looked at me expectantly. It only took a moment, and I felt myself giggling as I wiped the water and ice from my face. He laughed too, and soon, we were both laughing. And I was running back to the castle to change and heading out with him and his brother. _

"Like I said, I wanted to ask him to the ball, after that. We were spending more time together, and it seemed like a good idea. But, my friends, they just kept tearing the mickey out of me over it, because he was a fifth year and all, I just…" I waved my hand over my head. "By the time I figured out that what they thought didn't matter, he had asked Angelina, and that was that." I bit my lip, feeling the tears trying to break through. "Three years later, he's dead. Someone like that isn't supposed to die. Someone who saved your fucking life." I wiped at my eyes desperately. "And it's like, everyone's happy all the time. Everyone goes on about Harry Potter and how great it is that the war's over. But, it feels like it can't be over, because the world can't be right without Fred Weasley."

Charlie stepped closer to me, until he could hold his arm out and reach my hair. He tucked a stray behind my left ear casually. "Like I said, I've got six brothers and sisters. And I always prided myself in that, having this big, close family. Then, one day, there's a huge hole where one of them used to be." He reached behind himself until his hand found the edge of my bed, and he sat. "I know what you mean. It's over, but all that was left in its wake feels too wrong."

I sat beside him, bringing the bottle to my lips. We were silent for several minutes, sipping occasionally.

He swirled the bottle in front of himself. "What was your ethical dilemma?"

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Before, you said you had an ethical dilemma."

I wracked my brain, then drank more butterbeer. "Oh, right. It was something to do with the etiquette involving a strange man in my house."

"I'd think the etiquette would be more on my end, as the strange man in a young woman's house at such a late hour."

I snorted on my beer. "I suppose that does sound increasingly more deviant."

"Deviant? Why, you've hurt my feelings now, Emmy."

I put my now empty bottle down on my bedside table and lay back on my bed, spreading my arms out. I felt much less incoherent, and was on the downside of a friendly buzz. Charlie looked at me as I turned my head towards him.

"You look as if you've got another ethical question."

I laughed. "I was just wondering what Fred thinks of all this. Y'know, if he was watching right now."

Charlie laughed, too. I realized I liked the quirk of his lips into a smile. "He'd probably tell me to sleep with you." He quickly brought his bottle to his lips, perhaps trying to recapture his words.

I turned red, the warmth spreading down into my gut, but I laughed none the less. So hard that I almost couldn't stop. "You're just saying that so you can!"

"I am not!" Charlie rebuttled.

"Are too!"

He fell back on the bed with me, roaring with me. It took several minutes for the two of us to catch our breaths and stifle our chuckles. There soon fell a silence between the two of us, as we merely looked upon one another, our breaths intermingling.

I decisively leaned in and pressed my lips on his, putting my arms around his waist. Surprisingly, he didn't pull back or protest, merely cuddled slightly closer to me, matching his mouth with mine.

It felt exceptionally natural as I pulled him closer to myself, edging the rest of our bodies on to the bed. This time, he pulled away. "Are you…?"

I shook my head, scrunching my nose. "No, I'm just tired." I splayed a free hand out, searching for my wand on the nightstand. I waved it, sending us billowing into darkness.

"Do you want me to leave?" Charlie asked so quietly he was nearly whispering.

I kept my arms wrapped around him. "You don't have to. I s'pose if you wanted to you could." I started to let go, closing my eyes.

"I could stay."

I smiled in the darkness, feeling sleep creeping up over my buzz. "Yes, you could."


End file.
